#if you want something DONE AT ALL you gotta do it yourself

[dilf-rot]

Hot Summer - MDNI 18+

TAGS: Wolverine x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Logan has a knot, idc if wolverines are not a canid species I’m doing my best ok, Femme Reader, Friends to lovers sort of deal, Mentions of rut / heat, maybe a little feral?, also im giving this bitch fangs because he should have them, smut with very little plot, creampie, helping a horny mutant in need, PinV, oral (fem receiving) ((for like 1 moment)), marking / hickeys / scratching, this is literally just smut with minimal plot

WORD COUNT: 2560

A/N: Hey, remember when I asked if you would still love me if I wrote Logan with a knot? Yeah well here it is, may it comfort you in this terrible world <3 

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites  (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!) 

—------------

The summer at the institute was always a little boring, or even very boring. You were one of the few students who hadn’t made plans and ended up stuck in the mansion, doing mindless tasks and trying to not be bored out of your mind. It was mostly empty, and as you walked the halls, you hardly even noticed the change in atmosphere. It had just been you, Charles, and a few other kids that would pop up every now and then. So, you were rather surprised when you rounded the corner and saw him standing there. 

“Logan,” You call, and he turns to look at you. Your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of him, sweaty and a little dirty from whatever he had been doing. “I thought you were out for the summer?”

“Yeah, was. Chuck called me back, gotta fix up some things.” He looks you over, and smiles, the flash of his sharp canines sending flutters right through your stomach. 

“Oh, well it’s good to see you.” You try not to stare, wondering if he has somehow gotten even more alluring in his brief absence. The length of your shorts, and thin fabric of your tank making you feel much more bare now than before. “I’ll let you get back to it,” 

“Thanks, doll. We’ll catch up when I’m done.” Something in his voice feels different, but you try not to focus on it as you head over towards the kitchen. He did look rather good, maybe even more than he usually did. Though you had been trying desperately not to think of him in that way, to preserve one of the few friendships you had built here. But the image of him dripping in sweat, in a dirt stained beater and jeans that were tight in all the right spots. That image would make things harder for sure. The thoughts of his teeth sliding along your neck, his rough hands clinging to your hips. 

You pushed those thoughts down as best as you could and decided you would attempt to read, lounging in the corner of the kitchen, book in hand. Your eyes flicking across the pages, barely absorbing the words, just trying to give yourself a reasonable distraction. You weren’t sure how long you had been doing this before Logan had made his way into the kitchen. 

“Reading?”

“Barely-” you laugh, but are briefly silenced when you look up to see Logan, shirtless. He has his dirty tank in his hand, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t even that hot out for the season, and yet he was somehow soaked in sweat. You couldn’t imagine the work Charles had him doing to be that strenuous. 

“Oh yeah? Something on your mind?” He loops the fabric of the tank through one of his belt loops and walks over to the fridge. 

“Uh-” You can’t help the way your mind practically goes blank as you watch him. He’s taken a beer from the very back of the fridge and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, hopefully he hadn’t chipped it or that would be another thing to add to his list of repairs. 

“You want one?” He references the drink in his hand, you nod and stand up from your chair. Whatever book you were reading was quickly forgotten and left on the floor. You stand next to him leaning against the counter as he opens the beer for you and hands it to you. He must’ve bought them and hid them in the back of the fridge whenever he had gotten back to the mansion, cause you couldn’t recall seeing any in there for the past few months. 

As you take the beer from him your fingers brush against his, and as if he had been shocked he flinches. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth and tries to regain his composure, but you can tell something is going on. You step closer to him, your hip almost touching him. He leans down towards you, as if he was going to tell you a secret.

You want to turn your face towards his, to swallow him up in a kiss, to beg him to tell you what he was thinking. But as he moves closer to you, you find yourself paralyzed.

“You smell good,” he breathes in, his face inches away from your neck.

“So do you…” You turn your head to avoid his gaze. He smells better than usual. Something about the smell of sunshine, dirt, and whatever sawdust or debris had been falling onto him made you want to reach out and grab him, but before you could, he corners you. Your back against the counter, his hands finding your hips and effortlessly lifting you on top of the counter. He presses himself against you. You're caged in by his large arms, the muscles taut and glistening.

His face against your neck, his teeth almost brushing against your skin. His rough fingers digging into your hips. The fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your thighs, now wet from his sweat and your sudden excitement.

“Logan-” you whine, practically trembling, and he seems to remember himself.

“Sorry, doll.” He steps back and looks you over, a devious glint in his eye. Without another word he is gone from the kitchen. You are unsure of what to do, or what even was happening but eventually follow him.

He has resigned himself to his room, and you can hear him pacing back and forth behind the door. You knock gently and the sounds stop. He opens the door just a crack, he seems even sweatier and disheveled from when he had found you in the kitchen. His eyes piercing and intense, his pupils blown wide, his breath slow and shaky. 

“Logan, are you alright?”

He grunts in response, shaking his head. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks you over, and opens the door wider. You step inside and he quickly shuts the door. He looks even wilder than he had in the kitchen, still shirtless, only in his jeans. Which you try not to make note of the very large and obvious bulge in the crotch. His hair is messy and disheveled, you imagine he had been running his hands through it as he was pacing around.

“Logan?” You walk towards him and he makes a strangled sound. “Are you feeling ok?”

When he turns towards you, your heart races and your breath catches in your throat. He looks so pathetic. Rendered down to some poor animalistic creature. He walks slowly towards you, and when he is a mere step away he grabs your hands and pins them up above you, your back pressed against the door. 

“You should go,” He growls into your ear as he brushes his nose against your jaw. “Too dangerous for you to be in here.”

“Why? You’re not gonna hurt me,” You lean into his touch, resting your head against his.

“Might,” He drops your wrists and tries to step away, but you follow. Keeping the gap between you as small as possible. He groans as you run your hands along his arms, trying to be gentle and encouraging so that he may tell you what’s going on. Before you can ask, he takes one of your hands and slides it underneath the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes widened as you feel the weight and heat of his cock in your hand. You curiously push your hand down more and feel a swollen bulb at the base of it. Oh. 

Oh. 

Now you understood. You had at some points wondered just how animalistic his mutation was, but now you got it. Late summer was a rather common breeding season for a variety of mammals and it seems as if Logan was one of them. 

“Let me help you,” You slide your fingers up the length of him, tracing the prominent vein on the underneath of the shaft.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” He shudders as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

“Why not?” You smile up at him, and you feel him straining to not thrust up into your hand.

“You might regret it.”

“I don’t think so,” you lean up so that your lips are nearly brushing his, and his restrain snaps.

He closes the distance and practically devours you, kissing you rough and desperately. 

It was as if a fire had been reignited within him and he could do nothing to put it out. His hands grasping and clawing at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against him. His lips leaving frenzied kisses against your jaw and neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and his tongue soothing the small marks left in their wake.

He lifted you easily, dragging the both of you towards the bed where he tossed you down against the mess of sheets and pillows. His hands running along the curvature of your body, as if removing himself from you would cause him great pain. His face was wild, that of a crazed man who finally had found whatever he had been searching for.

You were utterly breathless and your heart beat rang in your ears loud as could be. He makes quick work of your clothes, tossing them off somewhere, his hands hardly leaving your body for more than a few seconds. He drags himself away from you for just long enough to find himself kneeling in front of you, pulling you down to the edge of the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders, his head between them, looking up towards you with the most pathetically hungry expression you could have ever imagined.

“You’re sure doll?” His voice is strained and rough. 

You nod, your hands finding their way to tangle in his hair to softly encourage him to continue. He growls and presses his lips to your inner thigh, kissing the soft skin and taking the flesh into his mouth to nibble and bite at. Trailing up and down the length of each thigh, relishing in the small whines and moans leaving your mouth as he decorates your delicate skin with marks. Feeling satisfied that you were now his in this moment, he brings his attention to the aching spot between your thighs, dragging his tongue up through your folds to lap and suck upon your clit. The feeling electric and mind numbing. He slides his tongue along your clit in sloppy circular motions, sucking it in gently, generating small whimpers from you. He growls as he hungrily slurps you up, his patience growing thin as he becomes entirely enveloped in your scent. 

He pulls away from you, a small whine leaving your lips as you sit up and rest on your elbows to watch him. He quickly kicks off his pants, and you gasp when you see him. The tip of his cock is red with need and practically dripping. You feel a bit more intimidated now as you stare wide-eyed at the bulb throbbing at the base of his cock. You could only pray that it would fit. 

Logan smirks and hovers over you, caging you in with his large arms. “Having some regrets, princess?”

“No,” you lift your hips up to shamelessly rub yourself against his erection and he groans. One hand moving down your body to roughly grab your hip pushing you down into the mattress. He slides his cock between your wetness, your breath hitching when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. Your arousal coating him, the slick wet noises make your head spin. 

“Please,” You whine. He presses the tip against your entrance and you try to lift your hips closer to him, begging for it to slide inside. Your breath hitching when it finally does. He moves painfully slow, the drag of his cock slowly stretching you out. A sort of burning rising in your stomach as you strain to be closer to him.

“So desperate,” He huffs, wrapping an arm around you and holding you close against him as he bottoms out. Your whines make his heart ache. “I’ve got you princess, I’m right here.”

You claw at his shoulders, his arms, his back, anything you can reach. The knot at the base of his cock pressing into you, you feel like you could break. Heat spreading over your entire body. You can’t get close enough. You want him to devour you. To take what he needs and worry about you later, but he’s being so gentle that it makes your eyes water. 

His pace stays slow, once he feels you relax, he pulls himself back before pressing in again. Slow, deliberate, patient. He watches your face as you try to play tough, acting like you can handle it despite your trembling. When you flutter around him and a broken moan falls from your mouth he falters.

“I don’t think I can be gentle for much longer,” He whispers against your neck, kissing right below your ear.

“So don’t be,” your whimper flips a switch in him. He would have preferred your first time together to be different than this, to be softer and sweeter. To be kinder to you. But when you beg to help him, and try to take him so good, he can’t help himself. 

He barely hesitates before his pace quickens, and the sheer force of his movements is enough to make your brain fuzzy and dumb. The headboard smacking into the wall with every rough movement, the bed frame creaking beneath you. You’d feel bad about all the noise if you were in any position to feel anything other than Logan ruthlessly fucking you. 

His cock stretches you in such a way that each thrust presses against that sweet spot inside you. The knot at the base pressing against your clit. The slap of it sends little waves of pleasure throughout your body. His pace hardly falters, as you grip onto his arms, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to take it. To help him through it. Wanting him to use you and be satiated. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he groans as he feels you tighten around him. You tremble and whine, shaking as your orgasm takes over and you can hardly think of anything as his motions begin to falter too. 

He shudders as he pumps into you, his ruthless pace being diminished into small quick thrusts. You groan as you feel the knot slip in, and he cums. You feel so utterly full as more and more cum is spilled into you. So much so that it’s dripping down onto the mattress beneath you. Your eyes rolling back in your head, and you can feel drool leaking from your open mouth. Your body feeling limp, you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open and steady enough to look at Logan. He seems hardly affected. 

“We’re gonna be here a while, Doll. Don’t get tired on me already,” Logan grins, pressing his lips against your neck and you shudder as you feel his sharp canines graze the sensitive skin.

At least the rest of your summer would be far from boring. 

[heesimp]

fic/drabble request 🤲🏻 bc ive been thinking abt this (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjSGw7Rg/) jake 😣 wanna tie him up and tease him until he cant anymore and js fucks me Hard

hot hot

-

Jake tries his best not to push against the rope you’ve got around his wrists that tie his hands together behind his back on the chair below him. The material is a bit loose around him despite your best efforts but he loves you and will do anything you ask of him. It’s not like he could really break free anyway.

This is the first time you’ve seen Jake like this too. Usually he’s taking command or praising you through your orgasms in ways that makes you feel like you might as well be a princess, but something about watching Jake become constricted by your hand is incredibly arousing and you feel yourself gush the more you look at him sitting before you.

His cock is so hard and so wet from the labor of love your mouth gave him, kissing his warm dick until he’s flexing his thighs in pure need and want. Your mouth waters at the memory of pushing him towards the brink of his orgasm until pulling it away from him completely like he’s done with you a few times. It’s all so erotic and so hot.

You swing your leg over Jake’s lap and hover above his cock, allowing it to slide against your wet folds every now and then. He tries to buck his hips upward to breach your hole but you’re much faster, pulling your body up and away from him.

“You look so good underneath me,” you whisper to his ear before kissing his neck. Jake is warm to the touch and hearing him try to regain a steady breath turns you on even more. The sight of his hands bound behind the chair is enough to make your eyes roll back.

“Wish you’d just let me fuck you,” he mutters beneath his breath. His cock jumps when you brush over the shell of his ear before kissing just underneath it. “I liked seeing you tied up.”

“Yeah, but you always get your fun.” Jake watches you pout as you lean back to get a good look at him.

“Don’t you like it when I fuck you senseless? Don’t you want that from me, baby? Hm?”

You clench at his words but ignore him nonetheless. “Later. I wanna have fun with you.”

Jake’s wet cock provides the kind of stimulation you need. He moans when you put your wet pussy right on top of him and tries to put his arms around you but is bound by the rope, moaning in frustration when your folds envelop his cock. You situate yourself in this position and roll your hips back and forth, pushing your tits up against his hard and toned chest while your hands grip his shoulders for stability.

The sound of filthy. Wet echoes permeate throughout the room along with wanton moans and subtle whimpers coming from your throat. Jake’s hair is pushed back from the sweat building off of the hour he’s been in this chair and his balls are so hard that he feels like he could come like this.

His tip repeatedly pushes against your clit and you try so desperately not to lose your composure. Your hips rock back and forth and his dick keeps breaching your tight hold, which tempts you into sinking right down onto him, but you hold back.

Instead, you lift your lap off of him and ignore Jake’s whining to grip him by the base of his cock and rub his cock head over your swollen lips. He looks up at you with wide eyes and open-mouthed moans the faster you rub his tip against you and your own resolve is crumbling. Your body feels like electricity is running to your toes and jolting right back into your warm hole. He feels so good like this. The precum splashing against your folds tempts you in ways you never knew imaginable.

But that’s the thing. You keep rubbing and rubbing but don’t offer him any real resolution. The rest of his cock remains untouched and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on like this. Seems like you have the same idea.

“Jake.” His names comes out like a breathless whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me,” you concede, pushing only his tip inside of you.

“Gotta untie me, baby.”

And you do in a hastily fashion until Jake’s wrists are no longer bound. He flexes his fingers before hoisting you up by the waist to wrap your legs around him as he plunges his thick, wet cock into the place you need him the most.

It’s loud and it’s messy with his precum dripping everywhere while he pushes your back against the edge of the bed, watching the way your breasts bounce underneath him. Jake pushes and pushes against you until you feel his swollen balls clap right up to your ass, and the feeling makes you come immediately.

Jake doesn’t stop his ministrations and grunts louder when he sees your come covering the entirety of his cock. It spurs him to fuck you even faster to the point where your hands grip anything you can find—his arms and the blankets below you—because he rocks your body in such a way that makes you wonder just how horny he really is.

He comes deep inside of you but he doesn’t stop either. Jake pushes his hot load deeper into your pussy the louder you moan and swears he could go another round or two.

[s1eept0ken]

Smutty & sweet sleep token head cannons

warnings-most of it as per usual 🙈

MDNI! 18+

꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎

Vessel

☣︎loves your pretty smile, his heart absolutely melts when he sees it

☣︎100% has you as his wallpaper

☣︎as kind and gentle as he is with you outside the bedroom, he’s the complete opposite when it’s just the two of you! Always treats you like his little play thing

☣︎ves just gives off sweet!dom vibes, like yes he can be rough with you 99% of the time but he’s always gotta make sure his pretty girl is doing alright after he’s done fucking her recklessly!

☣︎there’s not one inch of that house where you haven’t been fucked on

☣︎he’s always buying you sweet gifts, flowers, chocolates ect ect…

☣︎I feel like he’s big on shower sex, it’s so intimate, the warm water running down your bodies while the air is full of steam and sex? Sign him UP

II

☣︎Such a cuddle bear, always needs to fall asleep with you in his arms

☣︎He ALWAYS has to have his hands on you, whether it’s them on your hips, thighs, shoulders hell he even grips onto your ass sometimes! He doesn’t care though as long as he can feel the warmth of your soft skin in his hands then that’s all that matters

☣︎definitely big on choking, but only choking you. Not rough but to the point where you’re slightly struggling to breathe gets him rock hard

☣︎he could stare at you for HOURS and never see a single flaw, the moment you say something negative about yourself he’s got you completely naked in front of a mirror running his hands gently up and down your entire body telling you and reminding you on how gorgeous you are, and then yknow damn well he’ll fuck you in front of it!

☣︎we all know our man is tatted up, would definitely want matching tattoos

☣︎he wants EVERYONE to know you’re his and his only, always buys you jewellery with his initials on it

III

☣︎Where do I even begin with this man…he’s so insanely obsessed with you, always needs to make you feel like you’re the most perfect girl in the world! And let’s be honest, in his eyes you 1000% are

☣︎big on praise, whether it’s him giving it to you or you giving it to him he fucking loves it

☣︎LOVES eating you out and no one can change my mind, it’s his favourite thing to do! Your plush thighs squeezing around his head, your little moans and whimpers and even better him just making you feel good? Yes please

☣︎loves just touching you, whenever you are just standing somewhere he’ll come up, wrap his long arms around your waist, nuzzle his face into your neck and whisper sweet nothings into your ear!

☣︎goes absolutely feral when you ride him, he loves having control over you and your movements, your hips move so perfectly on him he could swear he sees stars when you’re on top of him bouncing on his long cock

☣︎when he’s away on tour and he’s missing you, bet your ass he’s gonna be sending proof, he’s always sending videos/pictures of him stroking his cock slowly, letting out low groans and even if you’re lucky he’d send you a voice message of him saying everything he’d do to you when he gets back and how he’s been so desperate for you! :(

IV

☣︎he treats you like you’re his sugar baby! Always buying you such expensive nice things, anything and everything you want he’s always got for you in a heart beat!

☣︎Honestly..I feel like he’s so into tying you up, wrapping a blindfold around your pretty eyes and just teasing you for however long he’d like to and you would absolutely have zero say

☣︎always following you wherever you go, like a puppy! He adores you so much he sees you as his and his only pretty girl! Which you are

☣︎as much as he loves to spoil you, he loves to hear you beg especially when you’re so close to cumming and he slows down his movements, daring to pull out completely until you’re a blabbering, begging little mess

☣︎whenever he comes up with a good riff you are ALWAYS the first he shows, he gets so excited it’s adorable!

☣︎if one of the other guys or even random men look at you in a way that he doesn’t like, especially if it looks like a flirty way he’s definitely pulling you into the closest room he can find and fucking you recklessly, reminding you who you belong to

꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎ ꩜˚₊‧⁺⋆♱⋆☠︎︎

I hope you guys enjoyed! I’m sorry it’s not great :( but all requests I’m happy to write for so leave some if you’d like!

Love you🖤

[smiley-mcdoggington]

FIRST POST YAY YAY YAY (tw: smut, stancest, dubcon, beware!)

Unicorns were, by far, the most irritating creatures Ford has ever come to know of all the anomalies of Gravity Falls. The amount of trouble it took to sedate that unicorn made Ford want to grab fistfuls of his own hair were they not already filled with the holographic strands from said unicorn. It had taken all day, but it would be worth it - once his house was Bill-proof, it would be worth it.

He fumbled with the frozen doorknob before shouldering into the house with a loud noise. “Stanley! I'm back!” He called, kicking the snow off his boots and reaching for the lightswitch.

There was a takeout menu taped over the thing. Ford rolled his eyes. Of course Stanley couldn't make the trip to the grove on his broken leg but he could snoop around to beg for food.

He tugged the paper from the wall - but then his eyes caught the stocky writing on the back.

‘I'm sorry, Sixer. You can put me in a home or something when it's over, I know I shouldn't have done this without saying but it's the only way to protect you from him forever, this way you don't have to worry so much. Please take care of yourself. -Stanley’

Ford struggled to fit the pieces together. He looked further into his dark home. “Stanley?!” He called again.

He strained his ears, but he couldn't hear any sort of response.

He flicked on the lights, reading over the note again, and making his way deeper in.

“Hello?!” He practically shouted up the stairs.

He almost thought he didn't get a response - then he heard a very faint “Hello..?” from his brother. Ford’s shoulders dropped with relief.

He stormed up the stairs. “Stanley, what is the meaning of this note? Is this about Bill? I told you what the unicorn hair was for--” He found his brother sat on the floor or his bedroom wearing Ford’s favorite trench coat that had gone missing that morning.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Ford asked.

“My leg hurts.” Stanley said astutely, and Ford eyed the leg that Stanley had taken out of its boot.

“Yes, that tends to happen when a leg is broken. Why did you take your boot off?”

Stanley looked dumbfounded. “My leg’s broken?” He asked.

Ford started walking closer when his foot met something. He looked down and saw the memory gun.

He picked it up, and saw the setting entered.

‘Stanley Pines’

He looked back at his brother - who’d cut his hair, was wearing his glasses and his clothes, and was staring uncomprehendingly up at him.

“Stanley, what did you do..?” He asked faintly. Of course he had theorized - but it was just that, a theory, one only meant to be proven when all other options ran out.

His brother had a confused frown. “I'm Stanley?”

Ford’s hands shook where they held the gun - the one Stanley pointed at his own head. He threw it across the room, getting to his knees in front of his brother. “Yes. Stanley, what do you remember? Do you remember making a deal? Anything?”

Stanley leaned away from him. “Uh. Sorry, man - I don't, uh. Do I know you?”

“You do.” He said immediately. “Stanley, you know me, it's Stanford - you know me--” He put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, the same way he had done two days ago, but instead of him calming down he just seemed more uncomfortable.

“Sorry, Stan, doesn't ring a bell.”

“I'm not Stan, you're Stan and I'm Ford.” He corrected immediately.

“Yikes, that's gotta be confusing. So Ford, would you tell me where the hell I am?”

He genuinely didn't remember. Ford felt sick.

‘You can put me in a home or something when it's over,’ Stanley had said in the note he left. He knew what he was doing to himself. Why would he--

Ford got to his feet, storming out of the room and down the stairs, down to the basement - the second floor of the basement, the floor he’d been avoiding for months. He grabbed the lighter from his pocket and started lighting dusty candles.

He sat himself in the middle of the circle, anxiety overwrought with anger. He recited the incantation he knew by heart and forced his mind to open.

But nothing happened.

He tried again.

Nothing.

He looked up at the ceiling. “Bill!” He yelled into the air. “I've come to make a deal!” He lied, but nothing happened. There was no possible way Bill would pass a declaration like that up - just like Stanley said, Bill was getting desperate, he wouldn't pass up a chance for Ford to let him in his head.

Stanley was dressed up like Ford. Stanley knew how desperate Bill was, knew he would shake hands with Ford no questions asked if he thought Ford offered up his mind.

He ran out of the room, back up the stairs so quickly he ran out of breath. When he got back to the second floor and his brother was face-down on the floor. “Stanley?!” He was over immediately, a hand on his neck looking for a pulse.

Stan smacked his hand away with an annoyed huff, sitting himself back up on his own. “Hey, Phil - thought you left.”

“Ford. What were you doing, Stanley?”

“My leg’s broken.” Stanley said in explanation. “I was thinkin’ of driving myself to the hospital.”

“You could have called me!” Ford argued.

“I did! I thought you left and I wasn't gonna keep on yowling for help like some sick cat, now are you gonna drive me to a hospital or am I gonna drive me to a hospital?”

“Drive myself - grammar.” He corrected, and Stanley gave him a blank look as if unaffected by their usual topic of bickering. “Just - let me help you up.”

Ford hefted Stan's thicker arm over his shoulder and hoisted him to his feet - mostly his left foot, his right dragging behind them as they started walking.

“Hey, uh. Buddy. Stairs are that way. This ain't the first floor.”

Ford wanted to drop him, frankly. Stan again forgetting his name made him perhaps a little too angry. “Wise deduction, but you came from that way - and you walked into my room with a boot on. A cast, too, but I don't want to see what chewed-up mess you made of that. I'm assuming you hid it there.” He said, lining up the back of Stan's knees with his bed and dropping him. Stan didn't make a sound, but the short drop made his eyes wide - still afraid of heights? Or something else?

It didn't matter. What mattered was that Stanley was blinking up at him with eyes that still didn't quite recognize him. Ford kind of wanted to punch him. Or the wall. Or Bill when he got back.

He busied himself with scanning the room - everything had a fine layer of dust, his bedroom hadn't been used quite possibly since the day he made that deal with Bill to increase time spent on the portal past all of his waking hours. He had most of his wardrobe in the basement, and needed nothing comfortable to catch him when he passed out.

He opened the closet door of his room - filled with summer attire for all the good it did him in February. At the bottom was the plastic boot the hospital had given Stanley, and just as he suspected the torn up remains of his cast, still with a pair of bent kitchen scissors lodged into the thick material.

A new cast would be easy to make, but the boot would help as a guideline. He didn't want to go to the hospital with Stanley again - not after the looks the staff gave him every time previous.

He grabbed it and headed downstairs again, already logging what he would need. Fiberglass, cotton, calcined gypsum, calcium sulfate, polyurethane, bandages - he was sure he had more than enough lying around for something as simple as a cast.

He started nosing through the clutter in his house, picking up everything he needed and putting it in an old grocery bag he found to take upstairs.

Once he was satisfied with his haul, he went back upstairs. He checked back in his room and Stanley was right where he left him.

Stan was also looking at the bag like it was his saving grace, then back up at Ford with a determined set of his shoulders. Ford ignored it, going over to the bed and dropping the grocery bag next to the cluttered nightstand

Stan was looking at him still - scanning him. Ford had no idea what his brother could be thinking until he opened his mouth. “Can't get on my knees that well with the leg, John.”

Ford’s mood soured. “Ford. It's Ford, you don't even have to remember two syllables, Stanley.” He snapped, but Stanley just tilted his head down like a scolded dog.

“Sorry, Ford - I'll call ya what you want.” He said, once again eyeing the bag for a second too long to be inconspicuous.

Ford sighed. “It doesn't matter - will you just - just sit there? Sit still?”

“Yes, sir.” Stan said, and then dropped into his back, completely ignoring what Ford just said, but Ford was still reeling from the use of “sir” by his twin brother. Ford didn't look nearly that old - or maybe he did, he had broken all the mirrors weeks ago - but Stanley was the same age as him, regardless!

Finally collected on why this offended him, he turned to look at Stanley again but then lost his train of thought.

Stanley was looking at him. He had taken his glasses off and was staring down at him expectantly over his own chest - was his back arched? Ford opened his mouth and Stanley’s legs visibly inched apart.

“... Stanley?”

“Yes, sir?” The title again - but now in a vastly different context. Why the hell was Stan looking at him like that? Sounding like that? Acting like that?

“What?” Ford said in summary of all his questions.

Stan tilted his head coyly. “Just doin’ what you want, sir.” His eyes flicked to Ford’s bag of supplies and then back. “Bag like that of food ain't cheap. Lemme make it worth your while?” He purred, and Ford’s usual urge to correct him didn't even notice that Stan thought his cast supplies were normal groceries.

Why was the thought of a bag of food making Stan act like a cat in heat? Was his brain damaged with the memory gun or is this such a frequent occurrence even the memory wipe couldn't rid him of it? Ford wondered just how many times Stan had looked at a stranger the way he was looking at him right now. Was he even clean?

Disgust and guilt and something else rolled in his gut - was this a con? Had Stanley still not put together that they're brothers? Would he still be lying on the bed that nicely if he did?

Stan's arms itched upwards and the sides of his knees couldn't go any farther apart from where they hung over the bed - that must hurt, with the leg. Stan didn't react to that, though, instead staring intently down at something while his fingers slowly dug into the dusty sheets.

Ford looked down as well.

Oh.

Ford cleared his throat awkwardly, tugging the front of his shirt down. Stan was looking up at him again, an easy smile on his lips. “You gonna just look at me? You can do whatever you want, s--”

“Sixer.” He corrected, his voice sounding off in his own ears. “You'll call me Sixer.” He said with more confidence than his sweaty palms suggested. He vaguely justified the change in his head while he watched Stan's fingers drag along the sheets.

Stanley, again unaffected by being corrected, leaned up on his elbows. “Alright, Sixer. You want me on my back?” He was scanning Ford again. Ford began answering when Stanley added another question. “... You want me to start by myself--?”

“Yes.” He said in response to the first question, because rolling over might shift the bones in his leg, and then felt shame burn in his throat when he registered the second. He moved to correct himself but Stan moved quicker.

He was undoing the buttons of Ford’s trench coat that Ford had yet to make him take off. His fingers sliding over the large brown buttons with ease, revealing more of the collared shirt he had seen just peeking over it.

It was no wonder he had closed the jacket Ford normally left open - the button-down was also Ford’s, and it looked it, stretched over Stan's larger frame. Ford’s eyes drank up the peeks of skin between buttons where fabric had bowed out, the buttons straining to keep from either undoing themselves or ripping from the their threads entirely. Dark hair wiry and obvious with the white background.

Stan shucked the trenchcoat, leaving it under him while he went for the smaller buttons of his shirt - Ford’s shirt that he had probably stretched beyond recovery. The long sleeves were like a second skin on Stan's forearms as his hands went deftly over the top button.

The button over Stan's pecks, the one most strained, popped open before Stan could even touch it, and Stanley’s breath hitched. He was staring right at him. “Sixer?” Stan asked, still releasing the buttons from their strain. Ford waited for Stanley to say anything else, breath shallow and eyes watching Stanley’s fingers.

“Sixer, come on.” He said, it sounded almost like a whine, like a twisted mimicry of when Stan would tell him to keep up as children running across the sand. Ford’s mouth went dry. Then he felt the warmth of Stan's wrists under his palms as he yanked his hands off that godforsaken button-down. Ford froze like a deer in the headlights when he realized what he’d done, but Stan was looking up at him like he was fucking smug about it.

Ford grabbed him by the back of his roughly chopped hair and dragged him into a kiss that was mostly teeth. Ford bit Stan's lower lip and Stan huffed a laugh like he had won, somehow. Perhaps he had, now that Ford was indulging in this - this incest.

He broke the kiss, going down to undo the last stubborn button and get the shirt off.

“Fuck you've got big hands…” Stanley huffed in almost a whisper, and really? That was Stanley’s candid reaction to the extra digits? Ford almost wanted to cry, instead he went back to kissing Stan like his life depended on it while his hands ran over his arms to get his sleeves off. Stan started pawing at Ford’s own button-down, but Ford just pulled it over his head easily - he had lost a few pounds before Stan got there.

Stan didn't seem to mind at all, hands running down his sides and leaving goosebumps. The distraction let Stan push forward in the kiss, technique much different - better. One of Stanley’s hands started itching down the front of his pants and Ford made an embarrassing noise that had him freezing up.

Stanley stopped, breaking away to get a look at Ford, but Ford just grabbed his wrists again and pushed them into the bed. “No touching.” He said, trying to sound authoritative instead of like someone liable to come in his pants at some heavy petting.

Stanley obediently kept his hands where they were when Ford let go, leaning down to meet Stanley again. Ford tried to copy what Stan was doing earlier, and Stan hummed in his mouth.

Ford slowly moved down to Stan's pants - still his, it seems he didn't even attempt to squeeze into Ford’s stiff slacks. Or maybe he did and hid the ripped remains somewhere. He undid the fly and button and Stan groaned. Ford, spurred on by the noise, started pulling down his pants and underwear at once.

Stan chuckled in his mouth - voice low and harsh and scratching at Ford’s brain. “You wanna stretch me or you wanna watch?” He asked, nose running by Ford’s cheekbone.

“Watch.” Ford said. It was only smart, he had never done something like that before, all of his college trysts were with women. Stan scooted backwards on the bed - barely wincing when his leg shifted. He looked Ford in the eyes and started laving three of his fingers in saliva for a second, before pulling away, a string connecting them to his lips for a moment as he reached down, passing his erection and going further.

Ford watched Stan shove two in immediately - really, how experienced was he? He started pushing them deeper and then back out. Ford watched him work himself open, want making his stomach ache. He reached down and started palming himself, and Stanley groaned again. Ford’s eyes snapped up to his face.

“Sixer? Six - get - lemme see? I wanna see.” He was looking directly at Ford’s crotch, fingers slow and making faint wet noises.

Ford hesitated - one of Bill's many efforts to demonstrate his lack of bodily autonomy was to go to a tattoo and piercing parlor and get what he thought would shame Ford as much as possible - publicly and privately.

“Sixerrrr…” Stan's voice dragged, his hands moving faster - three fingers, now. “Please - God - please lemme see, jus - please, Six I just wanna see…”

Ford undid the front of his pants like they were on fire, and Stan's hand in himself slowed to a crawl. Ford swallowed thickly, pulling himself out of his underwear.

The small barbell glinted off the light. Stan made a breathy sort of whine as his hand sped up again. “Please.” Stan said, more easily than he had ever begged for anything. “Wan’ it - Sixer, Sixer - Shit--” Ford grabbed the hand Stanley had half-buried in himself and pulled it out. His hole was red - open and flexing to the beat of Stan's panting. Ford lined himself up. “Wai - wait.” Stan licked his own hand, the one he just had in his asshole, and then reached down. He ran his five-fingered hand up and down Ford’s length twice and Ford moaned. Stan squeezed his base to keep him from shooting off early and Ford’s cheeks burned.

Stan was looking up at him like he was gorgeous, though. “You good?” He asked gruffly, and Ford nodded.

Stanley leaned back again, resting on his elbows and bending his unbroken leg up. Ford lined himself up again and slowly pushed in.

Stanley was hot - he was saying something, but Ford didn't recognize what. He was so hot - his muscles spasming around Ford and Ford had to grab his base again, whimpering as his orgasm failed again.

Stan started thrusting down onto him - fucking himself, shit - and Ford started tentatively following, slowly releasing the pressure from his hand.

“Shit, Six - Sixer. You gotta move, you - you're killing me here.” Stan whined, back arched, and hands gripping the sheets. “Please.” He begged, and Ford drew his hips back and slammed them forward.

Stan moaned. “Tha - Fuck - That's it, Six - Jus’ like that--” Ford started thrusting in earnest, Stan making these huffing noises to the pace of it. Then Ford’s unfortunate piercing caught something on the drag out and Stan's gasp hitched. He groaned obscenely. “The - their - right there sweetheart - Sixer - Fuck!” Ford’s mind pulled up a diagram of male genitalia - specifically the location of the prostate. Should be…

“FUCK--” Stan sobbed. “Please please Sixer Sixer Sixer F-Ford--”

Ford’s body was overtaken by static, spine curling forward until his nose was buried in Stan's chest hair while his spend flooded his brother. Hands started carding through his hair while he trembled and groaned, he felt himself slowly relaxing into the big arms around him and the soup of endorphins in his head.

The last thing he thought before his mind drifted away was that he could have sworn he was supposed to be staying awake.

[cottoncandybitchfuck]

Unsleeping City Quotes I Like

“Magic is Real and you get to see it. Isn’t that great?” -Misty Moore

“Sometimes you gotta do the nice thing, not the right thing” -Kingston Brown

“You know, just kind of when you’re already in a shame spiral and then people are good to you, it almost stings a little bit worse.” -Pete Conlan

“Things are not always what you want them to be, and they’re not always what you dream they are. Things are what they are.” -Jackson Wei 

“It does not diminish a soul to give worship or adoration”-Nod

“Being the founder is not the same as being a leader” -Nod

“You’re not done yet kid. Come on. We got work to do” -Kingston Brown

“You’d have to be a real asshole not to recognize when someone is trying to not be a piece of shit in general. And I don’t know that we’re good, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not good. And… I guess you’re worth helping.” -David Kugrich

“Because honestly if you don’t show up now, there might not be anyone to fuckin’ choose ever again. So then you’ll have had this little gift you could have given to someone, this little ‘choosing’ you could have done, and you will never do it to anyone. It’s like letting food go bad, I hate when people let food go bad.” -Sofia Lee

“The true spirit of this place is to meet dreams with concrete. To hustle in the muck and the grime, and to grind away to make something miraculous happen, and that the spirit of this place is that these people make it happen for themselves.”-Brennan Lee Mulligan about NYC

“There is nothing more in the spirit of this place than to rely on nobody but yourself to decide that you will be chosen.” -Brennan Lee Mulligan about Sofia Lee

“You want to be someone’s everything, and you’re everybody’s everything. Made it real hard to feel special.” -Liz Herrera 

“I can’t visit everybody. That’s also because not everybody is worth visiting.” -Kingston Brown

“Just because I have to be something for everybody doesn’t mean I can’t be something more for you.” -Kingston Brown

“If somebody would fuckin’ teach me how to do magic, I’d come help you whoop ass. I’m from the fuckin’ Bronx” -Liz Hererra

“I can’t have what you’re offering me, and that’s my fault. But American Dreams change.” -Kugrash

“My Love. For you are my love. My one true love. You don’t need to enter, for you’re already there. And you don’t need to be real because you already are real.” -Rowan Berry to the American Dream

“Dreams changing with the minds of their dreamers, is the most beautiful aspect of dreams. When you look to see the true form of this, what you see is that a dream this important and this large needs to be able to change. And its true form, is any and every form that people want from it. And if it is pushed back through the golden door, into the realm where it can have any form that people give to it, that is where it will have its true form. So the answer to your Nat 20 is that the only good form for a dream is formless.” -Brennan Lee Mulligan about the American Dream

“It is what it is”-Dale “And what it is, is anything”-Nod

“Greed is good, for rat motherfuckers like Robert Moses. But not in our town, not in our fucking city!” -Kugrash

“Pain is a part of healing. And the things we’ve lost should hurt. But it does not mean that we are defeated or they will hurt forever.” -Em from Bethesda Fountain

“These sacrifices are never made in vain. All these people, their lives are our lives, and ours are theirs. All intertwined together. I think that’s kinda beautiful.” -Em

“It’s not really what happens, but it’s your reaction to it and how you feel, that’s what you should pay attention to.” -Pete Conlan

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

i am reminded once again that people are so weird about rhaegar.

it’s interesting but nauseating to see the shift about him on the anti-rhaegar side of the fandom as it’s clear that people are still wildly and crazily deep in their fanon versions of him, but have decided he’s somewhat useful to them as the fandom becomes less accepting of the ‘targaryens are bad and all mad’ narrative that was floating around for years, so some of the antis have slightly changed their tunes.

i should clarify that the shift does seem subtle right now, so maybe it’s not going to affect the way the antis discuss rhaegar that much, but i find it interesting and a bit annoying so im gonna discuss it.

the shift is basically starting from ‘rhaegar was a moron and killed his family by fucking his whore so he deserved death’ and seems to be heading to ‘rhaegar was secretly really cunning and cruel and actually loved elia but she was iffy/neutral of him and he only got with lyanna to have a baby and left her to die cause he was always gonna go back to elia.’

both of these are crazy interpretations imo, but the second one is even worse than the first. the first interpretation is at least a tad bit understandable, but the second is completely based on fanon land nonsense.

because… how is rhaegar seen as cunningly cruel when he’s only been paralleled with dany and jon, two incredibly kind characters? one of the first times dany is directly paralleled to rhaegar is when dany was protecting others! while we do learn a lot about rhaegar through these parallels, there’s also an on page interaction that completely contradicts the ‘rhaegar is cruel and callous’ interpretation. it starts when jamie is recalling rhaegar’s departure to the trident, he remembers when jon darry snapped at him, telling him to obey and stay with aerys; then rhaegar takes the time to console a teenage jamie and ease his worries before he leaves. we have all this and yet people interpret this character as cunningly cruel and willing to use others for his own ends?

like bsffr… this is a character who prefers writing songs and singing them instead of violence and the song of swords. that says a lot about rhaegar, and it’s all good things.

speaking of good things said about rhaegar: barristan as whitebeard, when he was still sussing out dany, calls rhaegar able, determined, deliberate, dutiful, and single-minded. these are all positive descriptions. barristan also later says that there’s a lot of good to be said about rhaegar, more than any of dany’s other relatives. this is not the description of someone hiding a nasty personality behind a perfect facade, it’s a deliberate set up preparing us readers for the big rhaelya reveal and to contradict roberts anti rhaegar propaganda.

i also want to mention the other side of rhaegar. he was described as melancholy and was said to have sad eyes, and according to cersei he looked wounded. it seems like he suffered from depression. and based on the parallels between aerys and viserys, i think it’s safe to assume that aerys was likely abusive to rhaegar like viserys was to dany. what’s written in a world of ice and fire supports my case and shows that things were always very very tense between rhaegar and aerys. things were so tense in fact that aerys even brought varys in as spymaster partly because he mistrusted rhaegar. that is a very terrible environment for someone to grow up in, and yet rhaegar still pulled through so much so that characters still sing his praises years after his death. that’s impressive and shows how good of an impression he left on so many characters.

now, i also want to discuss the rhaegar x elia ship as it’s getting more popular as the tides keep shifting. one quote that these shippers use to support their ship is the “rhaegar was fond of elia” remark made by barristan, but the context of that conversation is specifically left out by these shippers. basically the conversation began when dany is telling barristan that she’ll do her duty and marry hizdahr, so she asks barristan if rhaegar wed for duty or love. barristan hesitates and tells her that rhaegar was fond of elia but says nothing about love. context is key here. and while it’s not surprising that these shippers need to strip away the context as they have to go up against rhaelya, which has a lot of textual support, it is deceitful and proves that their case is weak in compassion to the build up of rhaelya.

anyways… yeah… this shifting tide is weird af and seems like a huge backwards dive into fanon land, and while i can’t control anyone i think i’ve done my best to stay true to canon by mentioning what we know about rhaegar and trying to keep my interpretations grounded.

tbh… i don’t even like this character that much, but i think his impact on the fandom is so cool. cause it’s like… here is rhaegar, a sad boy, and yet so many people treat him like he’s satan incarnate responsible for everything bad. it’s like so wild and so far from what little we know of him. so, basically, because of this fandom discourse, i became interested in this character and am now one of his defenders. yeahhhhh….

also, because so many people liked to basically shit on rhaegar for ‘doing nothing’ and ‘just letting war break out’ i found it kinda fun to theorize about what he may have actually been doing at the time of the rebellion. as of now, i’m pretty set in my belief that he specifically went to dorne to conspire with house martell and potential allies in order to overthrow aerys. my theory is based on what we know of his personality, and i think his last words to jamie clearly hint that he had some sort of plan in place; and since he was last in dorne, it’s only logical to conclude that there was something going on.

that’s all

[deoidesign]

Allowing myself to work on this comic. A LITTLE. Please....... I'm making comics all day every day please let me chase my bliss a little........... With a different comic...........

[keymintt]

life doodles

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

i love my friends so much. i feel like yesterday i had a lot of shit going on in my head and i woke up to my friend explaining things in a way that put my mind at ease. i dont feel as anxious anymore because i know i was overthinking. i think my dad said it best when he told me that he thought my wonderful brain of mine just wants to think problems are bigger than they actually are. he is right! im just inexperienced in life and half of the time im scared im doing something wrong but- HEY. i need to be more confident in making mistakes. making mistakes doesn't define me as a person!! i need to stop worrying about doing life right and just live for the sake of living and doing what makes me happy!!!!!!!

[blvckentropy]

[bucephaly]

Cool, a native blogger! I want to connect to that part of me, got some native in myself, so hi! 👋

What tribe are you from ? Are you a citizen?

[emjiroki]

There isn't near enough smut for my love Isagi

[2024skin]

can't decide if I want to be a gynecologist or if I want to marry one

[snekdood]

i just struggle to believe theres any ethical way to harvest meat. farm animal dying of old age? yeah. ok. sure. but farm animals aren't going to be perpetually dying of old age enough to fulfill the demand for their meats. you can make better and more convincing arguments to me for ethically harvesting eggs, wool and milk rather than meat.

[crypticdesire]

i hardly ever look for fics to read by searching tags but i was very desperate for some olba fics… was quickly reminded how ‘niche’ my preferences are 🤧

[imaginedisish]

Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself. 

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time. 

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night. 

Or so you thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?” 

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?” 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth. 

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.” 

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head. 

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him. 

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game. 

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy. 

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you. 

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask. 

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer. 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again. 

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop. 

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone. 

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask. 

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. 

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?” 

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes. 

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.” 

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people. 

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks. 

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks. 

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly. 

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—�� “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say. 

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below. 

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts. 

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.” 

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts. 

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties. 

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. 

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you. 

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit. 

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly. 

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing. 

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. 

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst. 

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.” 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming. 

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop. 

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp. 

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release. 

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively. 

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit. 

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist. 

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour